Moon City
by Miki-Death-Strike
Summary: A town, influenced strongly by memories, gives the people who inhabit it the ability to use magic. A broken man who stands amidst a myterious war must choose between his past and an uncertain future before him and for an angel of hope, memory is power.
1. Stars and Rain

**Moon City**

Chapter I: Stars and Rain

The blood was not his own. The silver rain was fierce, descending against his lashes and his cheeks, but it could not cleanse the thick crimson streams, only caused it to drip. His lungs were weary having run so long a distance, his feet never stopping, the wind forever blowing.

His body ached, both physically and mentally. He wanted freedom from his world and from the outside world, a place where he could rest, let the darkness shroud his figure from the beings that pursued him. He wanted death, a final resting place where he could feel nothing and have nothing. His eyes could close their final time, he would not have to breath in the foul odor of life, but the fragrance of the underworld, where he belonged.

He would have it no other way. This was his life, a twisted spiral that knew only of blood and death and betrayal. He failed so many times, never able to rise above anything, his pinnacle being only the ground where his dreams and goals shattered. But the aspects of his past and his sure future did not ascertain what he would become tomorrow, it was the fact that he could not save her.

She didn't want to die, but she did, and he was to blame. They both had betrayed and in return, suffered the same fate. He was ready to leave the world and he didn't; she was to blame. He couldn't hate her, only himself.

Her blood mixed with the rain on his face, her blood would never be washed clean from his hands, and now they were pursuing him. So he ran far from the outskirts of Dollet, away from its mountainous terrain until he reached a dense forest. But he wouldn't stop, not even to catch his breath because he still heard the pounding hooves of their chocobos delving into the damp earth. They were still hot on his trail though he thought he had lost them.

He wasn't afraid to fight, he could stop but he would not. They would not be the ones to slay him, that was a job left to him. Their ranks outnumbered him greatly, though he was used to fighting ten men at a time, these bloodlust men were an army sent by the High Hand and they would never stop chasing him.

Then it began raining again and as he ran, the most peculiar scent passed over him. The scent of a Lotus Flower, an aroma he hadn't smelled since adolescence. Nostalgia washed over him suddenly and he found himself losing speed. His eyes wondered around him and realization hit him hard.

Lanky stems, very sizable and radiantly green waved under the torrent of rainy wind and the flower it supported, its leaves larger than his two hands put together, silver and white, swayed at eye-level as if carefully watching him. He realized that he had stopped, but he couldn't continue, the scent of the forest alone coerced him to stay. His ears picked up the soft melody of a woman singing.

He directed his attention, guided by the voice and found an overflowing river of black hair cascading to the bed of white and pink petals on the ground. Her hair, unnaturally dark, blacker than the darkest night, and her body, crouching to attend to a budding plant that much resembled the other Lotus Flowers shivering under the rain, was slender, wrapped in white silks that overlapped each other. They left her arms bare, but practically covered the rest of her, loosely engulfing her.

He found himself watching the plants again, his body growing more weary and weak and when he stepped forward, a petal crunched and the woman gasped with alarm. She had a golden band just above her eyes where a burnished pendant dangled, emitting a mysterious silver light. He did nothing to suppress her alarm for his own body failed him.

He soon came in contact with the sweet aroma of the scattered petals. He welcomed the blackness that soon followed.

* * *

A flute, its melody serene and therapeutic, wafted in with the breeze that rolled the bright ocean. At least that was what the constant white noise sounded like. A clear blue ocean with an aureate sun painted high into an azure sky and below, a circular brick walkway that led directly to the docks were small white ships sailed along the tranquil waters. Some were docked, awaiting the new shipments of delectable fish native of the land and whatnot.

But, the warm memories of his surroundings he knew did not belong to him. He had suddenly been immersed into a foreign world that he knew nothing about but knew exactly how to navigate it. The town was simple, a remote harbor town with a few plain residents who inhabited a simple resort. He felt as if he were in paradise.

And then, after being lost in his thoughts of tranquility, the wooden flute chirped into his ears again followed by a long note and then a long pause. The melody continued again and it was the same tune the woman whom he had encountered out in the forest had been softly singing.

So familiar and nostalgic. He loved hearing it as a child.

". . . and bring cold water . . . he'll . . ." A soft feminine voice faded in and out, but it continued to become nearer. He would have lifted himself from the comfortable bed beneath him, had he not felt the immediate aches and pains of his muscles. He winced and stilled himself. Languidly running a hand through his hair, his fingers came back down to his face and he realized the blood was gone.

Blood. Her blood.

Tranquility instantly jolted away from him and he popped from the pillow, his warrior instincts overflowing him. He hadn't known this place at all, and whoever planted the false memories into his mind was definitely a dangerous magic-weaver; the kind She had warned him about. He had always been keen whenever someone was out to do him in, and that was a trait he had acquired after his training, a trait he'd do well to never lose until his death.

Standing, his feet touched the ground and when his full weight leveled out, he went crashing into a convenient pillar situated in the middle of the small room that resembled a cottage. His fingers, aching and damp from sweat, tried their hardest to support him.

He found himself breathing hard and he didn't move until his breathing even out or was close enough to doing so. But before he could take another step, the wooden door to his right creaked open, only slightly. He glanced over toward the movement, already concocting the next action that needed to be taken for escape.

A woman—no, a maiden poked her moonlit head into the doorway, her eyes becoming instantly concerned as she saw the man breathing heavily barely able to stand. She was the same woman humming within the Lotus field. He had finally seen her face.

But something was oddly different. He remembered the never ending flow of raven hair crowning her beautiful features, and now her strands were silver, like the petals of the Lotus flowers, and her eyes warm and sweet, yet piercingly white as if blind.

She placed the tray on the brick floor, hurrying in his direction. Her small hands, tanned from being in the sun for so long a time, touched his abdomen, which he realized were wrapped in gauze pads, and she soon encircled his entire waist. She guided him back to the bed.

"Please, sir, you shouldn't be walking, not yet." She coaxed him further into the bed to the point where he was completely lying down, the sheets obscuring his body. He couldn't resist because of her voice and her touch was like a mother's. Any urge to escape left him. "I brought you some fruit from the Lotus, it will heal you within time." She attended to the neglected tray on the floor and brought it over to where he was. He was staring at the wooden ceiling, unblinking as if drugged.

He felt so damn good.

"I'm sorry, I gave you some of the fruit while you were sleeping. . . . But it was for the greater good I suppose." She placed the clear glass of water onto the side table next to his bed and the radiant colors of orange, purple, red, blue, and green reflected from behind it. The fruit was glowing an iridescent greatness. He felt as if the great spirits were purifying his tainted and rigged body.

The woman was now pacing about the room, accommodating his silent wish for more light into the room. She opened the draperies that surrounded the entirety of the room, and the man was soon experiencing the sight of the lovely seaward outdoors. White gulls, some dotting the horizon in the distance, flew pass and all he could see was the blue, clear skies. Nothing else. He didn't want to see anything else. The mysterious maiden—he knew she was maiden of some sort because that was included in his false memories, she was well known around town—opened the glass double doors that opened way to a small ashen balcony beyond. A single chair sat catacorner at the edge of the balcony.

"Who the hell are you," he managed to ask without his stomach not aching too bad. He sounded hostile as well as alarmed and his voice cracked from not speaking for quite some time. The woman glided back into the room, her white robes swaying with the now stronger breezes.

"I'm sorry, where are my manners?" She smiled a beautiful smile. The kind associated with heavenly goddesses. "My name is Mana and I welcome you to our village."

_Our village_, relying on his false memories again, she spoke of the citizens and the High Council who made up most of the village.

"What did you do to me?" Again, she smiled, all in hopes to disarm him.

"Well, I nursed you back to health. You've been here for nearly a week and I was beginning to fret. But now I see you're doing better."

"Damnit . . ." he mumbled, closing his eyes. Mana stepped closer to him and when he faced her she was practically shoving a piece of Lotus fruit into his mouth. He grimaced.

"Please, eat, this will calm you," she encouraged.

"I am calm and I'm getting the hell out of here."

"Please, wait, Seifer, I assure you. I do not want to harm you, I only want to help you. Until you get better, you must stay. When you are well, then you can go. Please, just focus on getting better." Her voice was so beseeching and motherly but with a hint of a child's voice who pleaded for him not to go. He didn't know what to do, primarily because he felt drugged, and secondly because he couldn't. Only his hostility seemed to permeate through his tranquility.

They were silent for a few minutes before Seifer broke it.

"How do you know my name? Who exactly are you?" As if ashamed, she turned away from him.

"You walked into our forest and startled me. But when you collapsed, I couldn't leave you, so I brought you here. Please don't be angry, I only wanted to help. I'm sorry if you don't trust me."

"Why do I feel like I know this place?" She looked at him again, the sadness still prevailing in her moonsilver eyes.

"Because that's the affect this town has on you. It will disperse if you stay long enough. . . ." No sooner had those words left her lips than the sun sank below the horizon suddenly and dark and gloomy skies covered the town. White and garish stars littered the skies. The flute suddenly stopped as did the flocking gulls. Seifer furrowed his eyebrows, and Mana ran to the balcony. She leaned her body over and a man, possibly the flute player yelled for her to take cover. She closed the glass double doors and with a single downward stroke of her arms every opened drapery and window closed. The room was pitch black, but she fixed it by materializing holographic candles, fabricated from her memories of them. "It's going to rain soon," she simply stated.

"With the fucking stars out?" He was terribly angry, and she hated hearing him yell. He rustled in the bed, rising again. This time the pain was bearable, perhaps because of the strange drugs that floated in his bloodstream now.

"It's an omen. The war grows more fierce."

War? What war? From the last he remembered, Dollet had been on peaceful terms with Galbadia and the other superpower, Esthar. Just where the fuck was he?

There was no time for questions. He had to leave. Now.

The rain pelted hard against the building they were housed in and they sounded more like rocks hitting against brick more than anything. He began his pace toward the door, but she held his wrist urging him not to leave. He pulled away, nearly throwing her frail body to the ground.

And then, the memories returned. His memories. The woman, the one he cared so much for filled his mind's eye. She was pleading into his eyes. She didn't want to die. And it had been raining. Her hand, caked with her blood rubbed against his cheek and fell at his lips. He had been holding her and then she became heavy and listless against his chest. She was staring at him, dead and pale.

He screamed, falling to the floor, holding his pounding skull.

She died and it was because of him.

It had rained like this moment, and he was still living.

Notes: Well, that was the first chapter, I hoped you liked it. I think that I'll continue with this story regardless of how many reviews I get. I'm too in to it now, lol. Expect the next chapter to be posted a little late, high school's been overruling everything in my life right now...

* * *

Shout out: (Hope she doesn't mind me doing this...) Anyone who's interested in reading a very interesting and involving storyline regarding mystical beings, Squall and Rinoa and a mysterious town with secrets waiting to be revealed, please check out a great fic called **Sleepy Hyne**. The author's only got 2 chapters up right now and hopefully she'll update soon. Please read! 


	2. Mana of the Moon

Disclaimer: I do not own Final Fantasy VIII, 'nough said.

**Moon City**

Chapter II: Mana of the Moon

He was dreaming, and she could tell by the way his eyes rapidly moved beneath his lids. His lips and cheek would occasionally twitch, but it was nothing to be concerned over. He finally was able to rest, and she hoped he dreamt of happy things, despite the fact that moments ago he had been screaming in anguish.

Something profound had occurred in his past and when she probed his mind to settle her own memories of the village there so he could feel better acquainted with it, she found his mind to be a twisted mess. Etched within dark crevasses were regret and how he so deeply wanted to die, to be relieved of a curse he could not escape. But she had stopped there, at that black wall that guarded his emotions and his other memories that almost seethed through. Her purpose was to promote tranquility, nothing more.

And she was glad when she embraced him and used her abilities to ease his deeply-rooted pain, if only for tonight. He was indeed unlike anyone she had ever met before, with the exception of The One who fought for the village's freedom. His emerald eyes were fierce, like on who did not fear destruction, and his features were very handsome and nostalgic.

She only wished that he could stay longer.

Now, resting beside the ocean just outside from the hotel, Mana contemplated her obligations in the morning as well as her next approach toward Seifer. Surely, with the help of the Lotus fruit and the city itself, he'd be nearly if not fully regenerated by dawn and his hostility would overpower her. But, she would try her hardest for him to stay just a bit longer, and though she couldn't understand this excited and anxious feeling welling within her whenever her thoughts wandered to the new arrival, Mana had an eerie sense that this man was another piece missing from her village.

"They advance further with each passing day. He's doing all that he can to hold them off and all we can do is buy him time." Mana and the High Council sighed in unison, both vexed by the constant cycle of war that threatened to taint their peaceful existence.

She watched in the heavy rain, the tides of violent ocean as it crashed against the body of the walkway. Her feet dangled within the tide. An umbrella, courtesy of Cortelius, hung over her head, barely protecting her from the downpour, but she didn't mind the rain, it was soothing.

Cortelius brushed a strand of Mana's curly white hair, taking note that she was feeling distressed. Her hair always revealed her emotions, a familiarity he loved about her.

"What is to become of Balamb? Are we destined to fall," she asked, facing him. He looked at her with fear for the future and uncertainty.

"War is to be expected, when you are The Divine," he answered, a grin passing over his face. She didn't return his smile. ". . . And what about that young man you brought in? He isn't staying here is he?"

Taken aback and feeling a bit foolish for believing that she could hide a foreigner from Cortelius' shrewd and all-knowing eyes, Mana rose from the wet ground. She held her hands out to the falling rain, a small, warm white light emitted from her fingertips and Cortelius looked, once again amazed.

"As the Fifth Chair, I expect no less if you must tell the rest," she began. He started to speak but she faced him, her silver eyes coercing him to stop. He turned away. "But, you must also tell my father who is the one responsible for taking him in and caring for him."

"Why of course, Mana." A flash of blue-white lightening scattered about the black skies, followed by a small rumble. The waves crashed harshly. "The battle grows fierce. . . . Come, we must take shelter." He extended his silk-laden arm around her shoulders and guided her back to the towering edifice behind them. She allowed him to do so, but not before taking a small glance back out into the sea, where the dull yellow moon rose high against the boisterous storm. She felt her hair shifting gradually from curly locks to a layer of waves, a symbol that her hopes were rising. The brightening moon had that affect on her. But now, all she had to do was to wait.

To wait and to pray.

* * *

A meeting regarding the impute of strategies and thoughts of the High Council was scheduled to be held within the Grand Palace of House Caraway, based directly within the heart of the village, at the approximate time the advent storm would arrive. The forgathering, all members to be seated in their respective places about the Round Table until the Head Chairman were to arrive, took place ritualistically, discussing matters that ranged from simple town affairs to much severe matters such as the raging war beyond the walls and realm of Balamb, a war that had been long-fought but never brought to a close.

There were five members of the council, Cortelius Von Dolis being the youngest, and Sir Cid Kramer being the most experienced and aged. The one and only woman, Edea Kramer and wife of Sir Cid upheld the forth seat in which most of the Council's benevolence originated from. Appointed the second seat of the council was Cortelius's father, Martine Von Dolis, and he also was a longtime friend of the Head chairman himself, and together they had formed the modern council of their generation.

Sitting just at the head of the Round Table was Fury Caraway, his gloved hands crossed together below his shaven chin. His dark pools were sternly focused at the wooden double-doors where the last member was to walk through. The mahogany furniture within the room appeared glossy under the dim yellow chandelier above his head. The pristine crystals dangling from the ceiling jewelry wavered slightly just as the burgundy draperies surrounding every window outlet flapped from the cold vents that allowed small amounts of cool air to circulate about.

Fury Caraway expected Cortelius to be so disregarding of his duties, taking his young age into consideration, but because Martine had pleaded for him to assign the only unfilled chair to his son, who at the time, yearned for responsibility and authority just like his father, Caraway had acquiesced to his dear friend, but Martine had yet to tell his son of the favor.

"Shall we start, Caraway," the man from the third chair asked. Sir Cid cleared his throat, glancing toward the unmoving door. His wife shifted in her chair as did Martine.

"Just a few more minutes," Martine suggested, but it sounded more as if he were answering Cid. Caraway was silent and only until another round of thunder and lightening passed did he speak.

". . . What news have you from outside Balamb?" he inquired, directing the question toward Edea. Her golden eyes showed worry and sadness, and her hair, the color of the night outside, settled about her lower back, just like Caraway's daughters. She leaned her slender arms atop the table as if in deep thought.

"The outsiders are unknowing, of course, but I fear the violence is mounting. Soon, there'll be nothing left." Caraway took her words in silently, and the members watched, Martine having the look of defeat. His son had failed them once more with his dilatory ways and he knew Caraway was growing impatient of Cortelius, maybe even to the point of relieving him of his responsibilities.

"Then they'd best find their own haven," Cid commented. He chuckled. "And we're already one step ahead of them with that."

Edea continued with her report. "As for what the Gods' prophesied, the Galbadian government has taken actions against the insurgents. They've already conquered Timber, and their imperialism will taint the rest of the world soon. A global war."

Caraway grimaced. "Just as they had said." His hands became fists. "How much time do you think we have?" The question was directed toward everyone, but none had an answer, not even a speculation. The prophecy Caraway had received from his dreams two years ago were sent from the Great Entity, Eden, its self. The solemn and godly voice came upon him when his subconscious was reviewing his days with his deceased father, who had earnestly asked his son to carry on the Caraway legacy. But his father's voice hadn't been the same as he remembered; it was something far more greater and destructive.

"Caraway?" Edea called after somewhat of a long silence. Fury raised his eyes to the concerned woman and could only smile a weary smile. So little time, yet so much anticipation. The world would be a mess soon, and in the eyes of the ignorant, the rest of the world would think Galbadia's overtake of Timber was a plight to save them from a more domineering nation. One such as Esthar, their enemy.

"It is decided," Caraway began. He lowered his dark eyes again, finally coming to a conclusion. "We end our war before this winter, and help the outside world."

"But, High Lord, delving into the outsiders' problems will undoubtedly involve this town into a maelstrom, such we've tried to avoid for centuries now," Martine Von Dolis protested, he placed both his hands on the oak table and Caraway seemed not to notice his friend's statement.

"Edea, summon my daughters. I want them to call forth our warrior. It is high time, he's returned home." She nodded almost immediately and left the circle of the High Council.

". . . Yes, what is to become of Mr. Leonhart?" Sir Cid Kramer questioned. He cleared his throat, once again shifting in his chair.

"His powers are the only things useful to us." Caraway darted his eyes toward Martine, but he said nothing, only contemplating.

"We . . . shall see, Sir Cid. These next weeks will be one of great struggle, may Eden smile upon us." And with those concluding words, he ended the meeting.

* * *

Mana opened the bedchamber's door only slightly, first taking a step back and peering over the blue curve of the wall. Cortelius, neither the chamber-women responsible for cleaning and managing the hallways followed her. She and the Fifth Chairmen had separated paths upon arrival at the hotel, Cortelius addressing his duties at the Grand Palace, and she walking the stairway to the last bedchamber on the top floor. Mana entered the room, closing the wooden door behind her quietly.

She heard the delicate breathing of the man who called himself Seifer and she knew his dreams were still that of peace. She wondered of his name's origin, of where he had originated from. He was indeed foreign, no one of the Balambian region had the vibrant coloring of emerald within their pupils, they were always of a dark, inky or brown color. But she loved his eyes, they were almost like a window into the outside, a magical portal she had never ventured into before.

Mana took a seat beside him, caressing his blond locks that stretched to his shoulders. They were soft under her touch and she smiled. It was another affect the town's influence had on Outsiders, but soon his appearance would undergo a more dramatic change, before gradually returning to normal. She shook her head, unwilling to let herself get in the mindset of him staying. He'd leave, she knew. She knew it for sure. When she had first examined his mind, the mind of some sort of warrior, she couldn't help but feel his immediate feelings. He didn't want to stay in just one place, he wanted oblivion and that palpable feeling made her want to cry.

A sharp movement, very swift and alarming, shot her out of her thinking. She felt pressure at her left wrist and heard her bones nearly snap. She shrieked and soon realized that his reflexes, like some wild animal's, stopped her fingers from touching his face.

His eyes opened slightly, a coalesce of azure and emerald, and his lashes both blond like his hair and black like his eyebrows twitched a bit. She glanced at him with a smile across her lips, an attempt to reassure him that everything was fine.

"Hello again," she spoke softly. She gently massaged her left wrist.

"Fuu . . ." he muttered, almost incoherently.

Fujin, that was the woman he spoke of. She saw in his mind a vision of the woman. Shoulder-length silver hair that he was used to seeing shorter, albino pale eyes, pale skin. She was a beautiful woman, never wearing women attire, and she was deeply devoted to him. Mana could see the devotion in the woman's eyes, but she had been murdered, and had been dead for some months now. Mana and Fujin's resemblance were somewhat close, with the silver hair in nearly the same style and the pale silver eyes and Mana would expect him to confuse her looks with the dead woman, considering he was barely conscious and remembering such a recent memory.

Seifer let out a voiceless moan, like an airy inhalation of breath, followed by a chain of coughs. A bit panicked, Mana rose from her chair, pressing her left palm onto his chest. A garish white light spewed from her hand and seemed to melt in his chest, she all the while silencing him with hushing noises. His retching subdued until his breathing was even again.

"I'm sorry, but I'm Mana," she explained, taking her seat again. He closed his tired eyes. He was tired of seeing life.

"Of the moon, right?" he queried, his voice but a whisper. Her hair began to undergo another metamorphosis, growing more lengthier, until its ends touched the floor. She continued on, as if not noticing the symbol of confidence.

"Yes. I am a child of the moon." She was glad that he was beginning to except the artificial memories, a sign that Balamb excepted him.

Silence soon passed and he had fallen asleep. She stayed by his side, knowing that he wouldn't sleep through the night like he had before. He would grow hungry. Pacing about the room again, Mana found herself momentarily watching the moon again. It began to glow an even brighter yellow, before shifting into a chalky white. The warrior fighting for Balamb had been victorious in one of his battles. Mana would be sure to speak with her sister when she had the chance.

She watched the walkway beside the ocean, discovering a very lanky and regal woman making her way slowly to the doors of the hotel. She looked as if she'd be blown away by the rainy winds instantly. Holding her gasp, Mana quickly flicked out the lights, using her fingers and ran from the room. Edea mustn't see her, not in the bed chamber where an outsider slept. No, no one would know.

Not just yet.

* * *

Yay! Another chapter up! Tell me what you think, if you can find the kindness in your heart to review. Bye!


	3. He Who Knows Sorrow

Pronunciation: Mana Mon-aa

**Moon City**

Chapter III: He Who Knows Sorrow

He hovered above the battlements of the abandoned castle where once-peaceful gods reigned supreme over the now obliterated land where not so much as a mere flower would grow. In the foggy and gray distance, sizzling orange firelight flickered atop the ground, drifting which ever way the humid wind blew. He could feel the heat of the recent war and he was welcomed by it. Scaly and gooey carcasses lay scattered about the land, their mortal wounds overflowing with inhuman blood, the color of night.

The creatures had fought a good fight, but none so powerful and devastating as his. They charged at him in millions, armies and battalions at a time, but their size meant nothing. They had impressive organizational skills and battle tactics, almost equal to humans, sending the land warriors in the first charge and the archers to back them up. But mere arrows and spears couldn't pierce his skin like they had hoped. He wasn't an ordinary being and that was his advantage.

Then, they had beckoned the demigods of the underworld, their black and sleek wings giving them the agile ability to fly and their human yet beastly muscles nearly overwhelming him. He had called upon his inner strength to guide him through the battle, and that strength, the strength of the sun, had assisted him in his victory. He was grateful.

His black boots finally landed unto the brick ground of the ruined castle. He could feel its whole history entering his being; a woman, her name eluded him, had lived here for a millennia in her lonely despair and solitude. She had grown up within the walls and succeeded her mother, taking the throne. She had made a pledge with the Gods above, seeking their mercy in letting her attain what she desired. They acceded to her request, offering a suitable mate for her, which she most wanted, but in return she'd have to sacrifice her firstborn.

The time came when she gave birth to a baby boy, but she and her lover refused to send him to the Gods, and in her treachery, she was banished from the land by Eden, the withholder of the law, never to return. But her son had grown up to conquer Eden and the higher realm of Gods, and reigned supreme, beginning the line of a family tree forever destined to protect the Moon City in which the son who had conquered the gods had endeavored to create. That family line was the Caraways, descendants of the son who had basked and drank of the Moon and Sun and Stars, and so acquired its powers. He had sealed away Eden and its cult of equally powerful deities inside diamond gems, reminiscent of the Moon, Sun, and Stars in which he worshiped, and these gems were only known to the Caraway bloodline, never to be called upon for injustice, only advice.

The gods had excepted their new fate, and sought to help the family maintain its glory in the war that would soon follow within Moon City.

Creatures, from every walk of life began to lust for the gems, drawn to its unimaginable power. And so they ventured forth, armed with weapons for battle to the fortress which housed the many gems. Squall Leonhart had been the castle's protector since he had entered the warp known as Balamb, the bridge that connected the outside world to Moon City. The battles were indeed fierce, but the enemies had not been successful in obtaining the gems. But the High Council wanted Squall to put the war to an end for good, and the path for doing so was still unknown to him. He knew time was running out, for what Eden had prophesied was the end of their world, or something close to that.

"From the deepest clutches of a man's hell will he emerge to save Moon City. The battle grows fierce on both fronts, but only one may be victorious. The children born of the worshiped must summon Remembrance and delivery the strength instilled within to the warrior of our cause.

A powerful nation, that of greed and corruption will conquer all just as the gems of destruction will break from their sanctuary. When the gem falls just as the nations under subjugation, all is lost. The warrior must fight. A new age where the sun and the moon and stars smiles upon its children will come. . . ."

He remembered Caraway's exact words which he had conveyed from his dreams and he had analyzed them carefully, but was unable to draw any clarity from it. Wiping the enemy's blood from his eyebrow, Squall listened as he felt someone tapping into his mind. He closed his eyes and was instantly transported back to Balamb.

"Edea has confirmed The Prophecy. Timber has fallen to Galbadia," an emotionless voice echoed. "Come back, I wish to speak with you in private. We must review and find whatever it is we are overlooking." Had Squall been speaking with Caraway face-to-face, he would have heard the panic and urgency in his voice.

"I'm on my way, standby." The castle's beige battlements came back into view as well as the ravaged battleground. For now, the war had ended, but the army of blood-thirsty creatures would rise again. He imagined the town now, seeing the bright blue ocean, the sun that dazzled the streets, the cries of the seaward birds, the merchants, the giant hotel, and the Caraway family. The superior Fury Caraway and his delicate daughters, Rinoa and Mana. He saw their faces, the resemblance, and left the battleground, homebound.

* * *

The Fourth Chairwoman gave Mana the look of comical amusement. She stepped forward a bit, her arms akimbo. The girl's moonlit eyes showed childlike innocence and were on the verge of tears as if she had been caught stealing one of the pastries Edea would always make in the lazy winter afternoons. Her feelings, the older woman knew, were sensitive right now. Especially since the moon was high in the night sky, withstanding the raging storm and war.

"I know, darling. I already know," she soothed, grabbing the teenage girl into a warm embrace, one she desperately needed.

"Matron, did Cortelius tell my father," she asked, relishing in Edea's motherly hug, remembering the warmth of her deceased mother. Edea ran her hand up and down the length of Mana's back, and her silvern hair, barely passing the tip of her ear became long again, touching the floor.

"No, but I'm certain High Lord Caraway senses him. You know it's hard to keep such a secret like that, no matter how many barriers you build." The comely woman squeezed Mana's cheeks together looking directly into her eyes. "Now, come. Your father wishes to speak to you, I'll fetch Rinoa shortly."

"Promise you won't go into the room until I return?" Mana asked, fearing that if Seifer saw another foreign face, he'd run off. Edea thought for a moment, seeing as how the girl seemed to think of the person she was taking care of as some toy or dog.

"Alright, but _you_ must promise you won't get too involved with this person. Outsiders have no business staying here." Her voice became stern, as if warning her.

"But what about Squall?" Mana said, twirling around before reaching the stairs.

"He's different, my child." The women parted, Edea watching as Mana's river of silver hair flopped down each step. She smiled, and opted to take a small peek into the room, but soon ignored the urge. She wanted to keep Mana's trust, so instead she went searching for her sister, Rinoa.

* * *

She knew her father was calling for her, but she didn't have the slightest desire to see him, in fact, she could never bare to see his sorrowful face, pitifully asking for her forgiveness for an inexcusable sin he had committed. She was beginning to hate him, more than anything, and this rift between them grew even more broader because she could no longer communicate with him through the mind as easily as before. Like when her mother was still alive.

Rinoa combed through her flaxen hair, frowning at the mirror. Many people had always commented on her features. She had the femininity of her mother, precisely on her nose and lips, while her eyes could be as stern as her father's but her carefree demeanor covered that part of her up. They told her she looked more like her father, having his dark features and his forehead and ears and the only thing redolent of her mother's looks was the long hair and the peaceful and cute face.

She hated when people always described her as her father's while Mana was more of her mother's, having barely any resemblance to Fury Caraway and displaying their mother's childlike innocence, so they said. Her sister had fiery red hair when she was first born, but being a child of the moon, her hair had turned silver as well as her eyes, and that really brought out her mother's features, constantly reminding Rinoa that she and her sister were the only people carrying their mother's blood. She, on the other hand, had been born with black hair, matching her eyes, and being a child of the sun, her features had lightened, having the blond locks and the golden eyes.

Their behaviors were arguably, polar opposites, Rinoa never really wanting to lead a life of being a maiden for an ancient and majestic bloodline, while Mana, though she agreed with Rinoa's views, accepted her duties with no argument. She was less out-spoken than Rinoa, and it reminded her of how she'd always be the one to speak up on matters that involved them. Mana liked the nights simply because that was how she was represented by everyone, while Rinoa preferred the day, because it was the image of freedom, the clear blue and endless skies and the ocean that could take a person anywhere. Rinoa liked dinner before breakfast, while Mana liked fruits and vegetables before anything. Mana seemed to have no complexity to her, but because of so many years of suppressing her emotions since the death of her mother and having to accept such a daunting mission of protecting the village with their mystical powers, she seemed to have forgotten _how_ to be herself again.

"Mana, Mana," Rinoa sighed, placing the comb on the wooden dresser before her. She took another glance at the mirror. "We used to be the same, but now. . . ." And how she missed those times now.

A slight shudder of the glass on her window made her golden eyes dart toward the windowsill where she saw a figure, staggering a bit to stand still. Her heart raced against her chest, and something, a greater force than her powers combined with her mind ushered her forward. She was quickly unlocking every switch on the window manually, and finally the framework blew open, the breeze from the ocean fingering through her blond strands. The man, the warrior who fought for their village, had made his appearance after so many weeks of absence. She smiled, a look of disbelief plastered about her face. Though he looked dazed and barely conscious, she ran to him, flinging her arms around his damp neck, and he fell into her, his nose breathing in her scent at the nape of her neck. The rain began to let up almost immediately.

He needed her strength and he was already drugged by how much she possessed. He wrapped his arms around her slender waist, wanting to suck away her life for his own. He breathed heavily into her, and she began to guide him back into the room, alarmed. She noticed his stride, one foot numb and unmoving, while the other hopped in sync with her feet. His body was heavy about her shoulders and she was allayed of the pain he was causing when he collapsed on her bed. She forced his eyes closed.

"Please, rest," she said and he did just that. He became unmoving, still, as if not even breathing. She was silent, closing her own eyes to begin the healing process. Normally, traveling from realm to realm toward Balamb would not have taken such a toll on Squall's body, but being in such a putrid place such as Moon City for such a long period of time had that affect.

She wished he never had to go back.

Rinoa began guiding his brain's signals for quick rehabilitation, finding networks of weak points within his bodies, until each bone, torn tendon, and ripped muscle was mended. His face was no longer covered in fleshy scars and he no longer had the look of a demon possessing him, he was asleep, dreaming peaceful things.

"Oh, Eden," she whispered, biting her bottom lip. He _was_ the warrior of the village, but he was still human. Didn't Fury know that? Well, at least one good thing would come about their meeting. She'd be sure to speak on Squall's behalf.

Taking a seat and breathing in deep breaths, she looked toward the sun and it was tinged with a strange deep orange color. She didn't know what it meant, but she figured it had to do with Squall and his injuries and possibly her own feelings.

She could hear Edea's muffled footfalls a few inches from the door before she entered, a surprised look upon her face. She instantly ran to examine the sleeping boy-warrior, and then checked on Rinoa. She was very pale.

"Fury awaits, but please, take a few moments to calm down, child."

* * *

". . . and what were you doing beyond these walls?" Caraway gave his daughter his back, his voice angered and serious. She took a seat at the round table, watching her father closely. What she did merited punishment, and not just some meager slap on the wrist, but rather the Ancient Penalty which was practiced by her people millions of years ago. One who disobeyed their guardian and the ways of the culture were destined to walk in the dark, to be Shunned, and condemned so until the consequences of being disobedient wained. That had happened to a woman since before the history of her people, and the Gods had been very merciful toward her after she had atoned for her sin. It was said that this law of Noncompliance and Consequence had originated from such a legend.

But Mana knew her father, he wasn't as harsh as their religion implied. He'd punish her indeed, but to shun his only daughter who contributed to the village's safety would be preposterous and harmful to Balamb. She was a necessity to her father along with her sister, Rinoa, and High Lord Caraway would do nothing to impair everyone's survival.

"I wanted to gather some lotus flowers for you and Edea, she said she had never seen them before and it would look lovely in your bedchamber," Mana answered, almost in a whisper. Her father turned from the burgundy mantles that so reminded the Moon Child of a prison or a dungeon, having no windows and only one source of light.

"What have I taught you about the Outside and the Others?" He gave her his back again and she hated when he did that, it was testament to just how angry he was with her; he'd never look her in the eye. Mana folded her hands together, concentrating on controlling her emotions. She wouldn't cry or even let a single tear fall. She couldn't.

"I know father, but I just—"

"—What have I taught you?" he yelled, interjecting her. She jerked back a bit from fear, closed her eyes, and in a very gentle voice recited all that Caraway had taught his daughters. About how perilous it was to wander off outside of Balamb and by doing so, cause the fragile barrier produced by Mana to crumble and leave the village exposed. What she did _was_ foolish and she made sure she admitted that to her father. "And what of the Outsiders?" Mana was silent, as if hushed by his harsh words. He called her name again and she didn't respond.

Despite the fact that she was of the Divine and that Outsiders had no right mingling with her kind, she had taken one in and even nursed him nearly to his full health. He didn't at all appear to be one of those greedy and forever power-thirsting monsters inside Moon City, as her father had described the Outsiders. He displayed a natural gentleness and sadness, that profound sadness, and she was an excellent judge when it came to reading people.

"You will not be allowed to go anywhere near the Outsider of which you have included into the village, understood?" His position became more crisp and regal and he sighed heavily, preparing to issue his daughter her final punishment. "He will leave at dawn, healed or not. . . . I, High Lord Caraway, hereby sentence you to the Shunning until the Trial." He faced his weeping daughter, her hair trickling from her scalp ever so slowly, and his eyes slightly became softer, but he remained stern, remembering that those who crossed him, even once, deserved punishment accordingly. "You are dismissed until further notice."

Mana frantically moved the chair from beneath her and ran from the Meeting Room, her hair dissolving the moment it descended to the floor.

The High Lord watched the opened door for a moment. He'd talk to Rinoa shortly about his contemplations regarding Squall and the war without Mana. He was silent, even after Sir Cid entered, curious about the commotion seconds ago.

* * *

Hehehehehehee!! Finished another chapter!! Yay!!!! Well, that's all I have to say about that, lol. 


	4. Edea's Garden

**Moon City**

Chapter IV: Edea's Garden

The High Council stood before her in their final decision. Her father's final conclusion, the pivotal point in the history of her people, the spell that would remedy any damage done by her foolishness. The way she had stormed from the meeting room yesterday, tears overflowing her moonsilver eyes, her hair falling to the floor, was not in the least a royal display of how a Maiden of the Moon should conduct herself; she was a disgrace, further appointed to her by none other than her father. Mana had broken a hundred year cycle in which none of the maidens or the high lords were ever penalized by the Shunning. And now, at the forefront of the High Council's decisive agreement for her course of punishment, she sat alone in a mere wooden chair, hands tightly wound around each other, eyes big and frightened.

Mana's figure appeared shriveled under the palpable anger and possible hatred of the council as they leered down from their ever-high posts, her father with the most contempt. A single ray of white light beamed upon her whilst the magistrate sat in the dark, silenced by what was at hand. The Maiden of the Moon didn't need to see with her eyes or tap into that connection that bound their minds together to realize how grave they looked.

The formal trial would be swift as by the will of Balamb and its people's constitution. They would have to take into account of Mana's biological position as well as her ability to serve her people. Her punishment would be severe, that was certain, but it could not jeopardize anyone's safety. Had she been not of royal and significant blood, High Lord Fury Caraway would have placed her sentence when he was speaking to her privately. Death would be the initial action. But they were dependent on her, she was the crucial backbone holding the town and supporting it as a fortress would, and the only available and suitable penalty would be the Shunning in which she could have no contact with anyone, secluded in one place of Caraway's choice, never to leave until her father deemed otherwise.

This was Caraway's youngest daughter, having been born nearly a half-minute after Rinoa, the two were precious to him, the only women in his life in fact, ever since their mother had passed away. He'd be sure to see that she remained protected and well-taken care of, disregarding the punishment. He wondered now, would his wife approve of his family now?

_Of course not,_ he dismissed. His family was the very thing that separated and ultimately killed her. Subconsciously, he reached for his other daughter's warm and soft hand, squeezing it. It was a gesture he made toward his wife whenever in need of support, and beside him, Rinoa faced her father, agitated. She did not squeeze back and this helped him discern his dead wife from their offspring. Slowly, and regrettably, he removed his hand, uncomfortable by his daughter's hatred of him.

"Mana Caraway, daughter of Fury Caraway and the late Rosaline Caraway, seated here before the High Council's jurisdiction will be read the provisions of the Shunning, and thus be sentenced by it." The second chairmen, Martine Von Dolis removed the constitution from his glass-encased eyes, focused on the High Lord behind him as if to confirm that he could go on. Sir Cid sat emotionless, but his wife's weariness was beginning to seep into him.

Cortelius looked devastated and he, unbelievingly, craned his neck to observe Rinoa's expression. He wanted this nonsense to stop, surely Mana's own father wouldn't go so far, would he? Though Rinoa felt his eyes on her, she did not look back. Her expression would betray her and he would know that she felt the same way as he.

"You will not be allowed to leave the designated area in which Caraway will appoint to you. Should you speak or act while in the presence of another you will elongate your sentence accordingly. Fourth Chairwoman, Edea Kramer shall bring you your necessities each day at a scheduled time. The only time you will be allowed to speak and act is while in the presence of your father. I, Martine Von Dolis, in accompaniment with the rest of the High Council, hereby sentence you to the Shunning. . . . High Lord Caraway, please select the place where Mana is to carry out her sentence."

The High Lord had already decided the perfect place for her while eating his dinner with Sir Cid and Martine yesterday. He had been brooding and fearing this moment last night and had retired to his bedchamber earlier than usual. He wanted a place of solitude for his daughter, something peaceful where she could ponder and hopefully understand why she had been sentenced, as cruelly as it seemed, by her father. And the beautiful image of his wife, his Rosaline Caraway, had come into view in his mind, and that was when he decided.

Mana would surely feel her mother's presence there, and Caraway hoped that she would feel comforted by it.

"I shall take her myself. Edea shall assist me." Caraway stood and the trial came to its conclusion.

* * *

By the water, he felt serene, that rare feeling one gained during that precise moment before sleep took hold of the mind. He supposed the town had that natural affect on him, regardless of the magical illusion Rinoa provided him with. He knew, just as well as anyone in the town, that war still loomed in Moon City, and because of that, no one could truly be at peace and be happy even with the power of the Maidens; it was just too important to be ignored. And as long as that war for power continued, Balamb would not be safe for long, especially since the prophecy was beginning to show truth. 

But he was their savior, their sacred warrior sworn to protect Balamb, its people, and the royal family. It was funny to hear himself repeat that pledge in his dreams and to be reminded of it whenever he was on duty. Had it been five months ago, his allegiance would only be worthy to himself. But now, Fall was beginning to shift into Winter and once the cold arrived, a year would pass, his first year of being inside Balamb. Something in him had changed and he was still changing, slowly but surely.

Squall was no longer the shameful and hopeless boy who could protect nothing anymore. Though his internal scars remained, he actually felt them healing, but he couldn't be certain of whether it was Rinoa's powers twisting his mind or if this feeling inside of him was reality, was _real_.

_I have to get out of this town,_ Squall jested mentally. He knew he couldn't, Balamb was his prescription, his healing drug, the anodyne(which was replaced by magic)for his wounds. He basked in it, always drawn back to Balamb whenever he was fighting in Moon City. Now, he was in too deep, and somewhere in the back of his mind, he was glad to be apart of something this sensationally pleasant, for once, though he wouldn't readily show it. He wouldn't get involved with the people here, but he didn't need to. All he wanted and needed was this town. Its peacefulness and its solitude. Nothing more. He would have it no other way.

Averting his gray-blue eyes from the swaying ocean, Squall watched his renewed hand, the one Rinoa had immediately tended to when he went unconscious, and felt the intense flowing energy running from his left shoulder to his fingertips. If he visualized what he thought the magic would appear as, it'd be a lurid aureate color, like the sun, sparkling like electrical currents. This energy gave him vitality, it was his lifeline, the magical blood of Rinoa, the Maiden of the Sun. She had told him that once it began to flow through the entirety of his body, he'd become much stronger and able to manage his magical abilities more swiftly in battle. The process was slow, but worth it.

He heard a faint sound from overhead behind him. It sounded like the voice of an adult bird, calling out to another.

He heard it again, a bit louder this time. This prompted him to look up and standing behind a balcony located atop the hotel, one arm leaning on the banister slanting his body, was a man who's history was reminiscent in his eyes.. The man had dark features, like most of Balamb Town's citizens. His eyes were unnaturally blue and mixed with a hint of emerald coloring. Thankful for his heightened sight, Squall relied on just that to know that the man's existence here had been by mistake and forbidden. No one here had mixed eye coloring or a combination of blue eyes and black hair. Had Rinoa or Mana brought him here? Surely, Fury Caraway hadn't; he despised Outsiders and it was a miracle Squall had been allowed to stay. A miracle and a mystery.

"Hey, how the hell do you get out of here," the man who had whistled for his attention asked, his voice was dripping with arrogance and an overly-confident attitude. Yes, he definitely was an Outsider, no one addressed the One in such a manner. The Balambian citizens were humble and respectful people who annoyingly and overly worshiped him. "Speak up!" the man demanded. Squall stood, unable to decide on whether he should demonstrate to the man whom he was addressing rudely his inhuman abilities or not. It _would_ be a relief to brawl with human flesh again, like in the military. Instead, the warrior signaled for Rinoa through his mind and she arrived almost immediately. Grasping Squall's arm, she motioned him toward the Meeting Hall centered further back from where they stood, from where she had come from.

"There you are! Fury wishes to speak with you. . . ." she informed, and he nodded. She whispered, "That's our new arrival. I believe he will be leaving shortly." And before they left the scene entirely, she conjured the memory of the hotel's balcony doors closing. Not long afterward, the hotel's top door leading into the room the Outsider occupied closed with a slam, pulling the man in as it did so.

Rinoa giggled and held onto Squall tightly. He had more important business to attend to.

* * *

"Father?" But Fury didn't acknowledge her apprehensive whisper. She had called his name because he had suddenly fell silent upon arriving to the glass double-doors of the flower garden. He was lost somewhere in his past and she knew why. Behind her, Edea sniffled and caressed the back of Mana's white gown. The child's hair was still bald from the coalescence of shock and perturbed fear but it would return once she adapted to her punishment. 

Finally, Fury moved his hands from his sides and relocated them to his back where he crossed them. He breathed deeply, his chest proudly protruding forth. He nodded toward the armed guard before him to open the barrier obstructing his entrance, the barrier he had never stood before since the death of his wife. Slowly, the guard grasped the gilded knobs and the glass door slid open like warm arms ready for an embrace.

Yellow sun flowers and roses and daisies swayed under the warm breeze of the air, dotting every inch of the soil below, the red sun sinking into a melting horizon seemed to overlook the bed of various flowers. A sweet yet faint scent of the field enveloped High Lord Caraway and he breathed the flowers in fully, experiencing the caress of the field that had become so foreign. He was reminiscing now, of how Rosaline loved to visit Edea's Garden on those past hot summer days with the young children and himself. How they had been so joyful sauntering through the many flowers and the petals that drifted with the winds and that beautiful sun. He remembered making love to her here, and this being the place where she had conceived both Rinoa and Mana, and this place, this magnificent and majestic and memorable place, the embodiment of Rosaline and her love and her being was also where she had died and was buried. Her tombstone was further ahead, on a single hill with a single and large sun flower accompanying the tombstone. He'd visit there later.

Mana looked on, remembering and astonished. Fury took notice to her features, and he welled up with so much unexpected emotion. One white flower petal landed on his shoulder and he grasped it with his gloved hands. He felt a lone tear streak down and splatter onto the heart-shaped petal and he instantly wiped away the clear liquid, releasing the petal simultaneously.

Mana giggled with delight, almost as if forgetting what had happened to her minutes before as she chased swirling petals, her arms stretching to the clear, azure skies. Her hair, a white river cascading pass her sandals once more, gleamed with exuberant life, a few loose strands played with the winds. The sun to the far left seemed to delve into the horizon of flowers and Caraway caught her staring at the same thing his eyes became fixated on.

Rosaline's grave was just before the sun, an individual brick trail leading directly toward the stone. He began his stride toward the sight he had avoided for nearly twelve years, and Mana would have followed if not for Edea's hand resting upon her shoulders.

"He should be left alone right now," Edea whispered to which Mana nodded. The girl released the five petals from both her hands and they fell to the dirt. The older woman knelt down to the mixture of golden sunflowers and daisies and roses, her ebony hair falling over the flowers behind her. She touched a sun flower, its soft and warm feeling permeating through her. "Your mother loved my garden, you know. It was as if I had built it just for her. . . . Hyne, rest her soul." Mana knelt down, offering little solace to the grieving fourth chairwoman.

"I'm sorry," she said. "Her . . . passing has been hard on us all. But . . ." She directed her attention briefly toward her father who was now kneeling down, as if bowing his wife, to grieve for her and to apologize for taking so long to visit. "I believe father has been affected the most."

"And Rinoa?" Edea questioned, now standing. The two women strolled through the field, this would be their final time together before her sentence began. Then, not even Edea nor Rinoa could speak a word to her.

"I can't say. It seems she has moved on, but her resentment for father is still there."

Edea and Mana fell silent and it wasn't long before Caraway returned, his eyes somewhat reddened. Had he been crying? Mana turned her eyes toward the sun again, never wanting to see her father, her regal father surrender to his emotions again. He was a god, a king to the village, a man so strong and powerful in stature was never to be seen weeping, was he?

"Edea . . . Mrs. Kramer, I apologize for the delay." He faced his daughter. "Edea's garden is where you are to uphold your sentence, understand?" He began to walk pass her, gesturing for Edea to follow and she did slowly. Mana called out for her father and he stopped, Edea being the only one to face her.

"Why? Why Edea's garden? Why in my mother's grave?" she asked, almost as if pleading. Her hair becoming a curly heap of shoulder-length hair. Fury wanted desperately to rid his daughter of her sorrowfulness, but he couldn't, he needed to be rid of his own first. "I'm sorry, I won't leave the walls again. I won't disappoint you anymore, I won't disgrace you! I promise," she sobbed.

"Mana . . . moonchild," he spoke tenderly, then pausing. He breathed and began again. ". . . Edea's garden was apart of your mother, and perhaps, in that you will understand why you are important to Balamb, important to _me_." With nothing more to say, all three stilled by the darkening day, silenced by Carway's words, Edea and Fury moved on, closing the door behind them, locking Mana in the golden sanctuary.

She wept and didn't stop until the white moon blanketed the night and the flowers and she was sound asleep, dreaming of her mother.

* * *

Back in the archway that connected the Trial Room and the garden, Caraway suddenly faced Edea, his dark eyes anguished and saddened. 

"Your garden was where Rosaline died, the place she had loved, where _we_ had loved , but it is now her grave."

Somberly, Edea simply nodded her head, a sudden urge to look back at the flower garden passing over her. She ignored it however. "Will you dispose of the Outsider?"

"I am inclined to. The only problem is to do it without endangering Balamb." And they both walked away, deep in thought.

In thought and in remembrance of Rosaline.


End file.
